I don't own Homestuck!

When I Don't Remember You

Chapter 1: ==ยป Who Is This?

Look, I'm writing another Homestuck story! Woot! This is a Dave x Jade post-Sburb fic. I also made it so Dave never achieved God Tier because I needed one of the Beta Kids not to. :T Sorry, 'bout that.

I'm Dave Stanley. I think. I'm nineteen years old. I think. I work part-time at my Bro's puppet company. I think. My favorite color is red and my Pesterchum username is TurntechGodhead. I think.

I think. That's all my life is at this point. Thoughts. I don't actually think I'm nineteen, or that my last name is Stanley. That's a pretty fucking lame last name. But in any case, I know that there's a huge chunk of my life missing. Gone. Carried away (Whatever that means).

But now, my Bro and my mom, Dirk and Roxy, want me to start going to some stupid fucking therapist because I told them I think that part of my life is missing.

So, I go and I sit down in those uncomfortable waiting room chairs while Bro sews an ass on a puppet. Roxy's sitting in a chair, reading one of the old magazines, or rather, looking at the adds for booze because she's a total drunk.

"So sweeiet. *Sweetie." She corrects herself. She has a habit of doing this at least once per sentence, she might even just say it over because she's so tipsy she can't remember what she was gonna say."

"Yeah?" I reply behind my black shades and not bothering to look up from my phone.

"You knwo we're doing tsih, *this becusae *because, we loive, *love you, rite?" She sneaks a drink from her water bottle, which I know is full of vodka.

"I guess." I reply, swearing loudly in my mind because I smashed myself into a tree.

"Mister Dave Stanley?" A woman says, opening the door.

"Yeah?" I reply.

"Dr. Marian will see you now." I nod, standing up.

"Good luck, kid." Bro says.

"Yaeh, *yeah, good liuck *luck." I sigh and walk into the room where a woman with short black hair is sitting in a chair. She has short black hair that stops at her chin, green eye makeup and really jade lips.

"Are you Dave?" She says, motioning for me to lie down.

"Uh, yeah." I reply, lying down and positioning myself so I'm comfy just like Bro told me to.

"Great. Let's get started immediately. Tell me what you believe is wrong." She folds her hands together and leans back in the chair.

I sigh, "I don't fuckin' believe anything's really wrong with me. Bro just overreacted because I said that I feel like a lot of my life is missing. Like, the memories are gone, ya know?" I pause. Of course she's not going to understand. "But, I know that probably doesn't make a lot of sense..."

"Actually, I completely understand," She says. "I myself suffer a similar problem. I simply woke up one morning and wanted to be a therapist. I found myself knowing I had the qualifications and got a job here not long afterwards."

"R-really?"

"Yes," She replies. "I believe that something happened to take away all of my memories. Maybe a similar thing or even the same thing happened to you."

"Wow," I say after a few minutes. "Nobody's ever really believed me..."

She smiled. "Of course I believe you," She replies. "It's my job to believe you and give you help. Now, I'm going to need you to come back next week, alright? We can discuss what we know. Understand?"

I nod.

"Okay. I'll go tell your parents that you need to start coming once a week, every week from now on." She stands and I do too.

"That was fast!" Bro says. "How'd it go?"

I shrug. "Pretty good."

"Your son is going to need to start coming once a week, every week from now on. I believe I can find a way to return his memories, but I need some time." Bro nods.

"I'm okeya *okay with it." Mom says, trying to keep her words from slurring.

"Great. Will Wednesdays at se..." They start talking about bullshit I don't care about. I plop back down on a chiar -what am I, my mother?!- chair and pick up Bro's current special puppet. He doesn't hand-make too many, he's got people for that, but the one's he does are a thousand times better. I would try to finish the stitches, but it's almost done and I don't want to accidentally ruin it.

"C'mon, Dave. We're going." I stand up and walk out the door.

"Oh, isn't thias *this great?" Mom said happily, drinking leisurely now that we're in the car. "That nize lady's gontna *gonna get your memerias, *mamerais *memo- *fuck it, back!"

"She said she try, mom." I reply.

"Hey, be lucky she's trying!" Bro says, turning the last corner to out penthouse apartment. Once he stops the car, he helps mom out and unlocks the door to our building.

"What's for dinner?" I say the second we're in the door.

"Whatever you make yourself. I've got a big special order due in a few days and I still have about fifteen puppets to make."

"OGM, honey you wolkr too miuch *much."

"I've gotta get to work," He says to me. "Make sure your mother doesn't fall off the balcony again." I nod and take off into my room.

It's only eight-thirty, but I've got about 700 pounds of homework I've neglected to do over the past week that I've had off school for some sort of holiday.

I don't finish until about 2 am, so I'm beat when I finally trudge into my pajamas and into bed.

And then I heard a voice.

"Dave! Dave! DAVE STRIDER!"

"Who the hell is Dave fucking Strider?!" I scream, looking around for the voice.

"Y-you don't recognize me?" The voice says. "You d-don't re-remember me?" I hear a sniffle. The voice is crying.

"I guess not. And my name's Dave Stanley."

"No, your name is Dave Strider."

"Alright. Whoever the hell you are, lemme see your goddamn face."

The voice sniffles again. "Okay." A figure comes out of the light in and I see a girl wearing red heels, striped tights, and a black dress/hoodie combo. She had green eyes and simplistic glasses.

But the most interesting thing about her was the fact that she had dog ears.

Thanks for reading and please review! -Chiharu